Dreams and fantasies are just that for Mandy Brooks, assistant manager of Wentworth’s, an upmarket department store. Work always gets in the way. But then that is exactly how Mandy likes it. Until Christmas comes round again and she’s forced to play the part of Mrs Santa.
Christmas day five years ago, Tate Sullivan left town. It was also the day Mandy ditched him at the altar. Forced back because of his father’s death, he knows he’s got unfinished business with Mandy Brooks. He wants her back in his bed on his terms, his way. He’s out for revenge.
It’s meant to be sweet, isn’t it?
He’d returned. Thankfully.
Her body preened its thanks, arching from the downy folds of the bedcovers, aching for his touch, temptation overruling any coherent thought.
This was her fantasy played out in the shadowy hours of pre-dawn. She welcomed him with open arms, an internal greed of sensual need cohabiting with the desperation of an addict for a fix.
He was her fix. And she wanted him. Now!
Each night proved the same. He came. He teased. And she desperately wanted him.
She couldn’t see him clearly, the mists of fantasy versus reality obscuring him partly. But it was what he did to her that called to her.
His kisses. His touch. His loving.
It refueled her hope he would return.
His hand caressed her breast, tipping her into a world of mindless pleasure.
The staccato buzz seemed a mere whisper at first, slowly intensifying as it became an insistent call to her consciousness. He shifted from her arms and instantly a sense of bereavement washed across her nakedness, left cold and empty by his departure.
“No. Please stay. Love me.”
“Why?”
“Because I...”
The acerbic jangle of her alarm sliced through her dream with a brutal thrust. She jolted upright, shocked by her traitorous body and mind.
She’d been about to say she loved him. But how could she love a fantasy?
